Mask of Pain
by MetalWolfMelody
Summary: A cold, efficient team leader. A soldier who has more of a heart that he'd like to admit. Unrest between comrades, brothers in arms, and a teenage girl with crucial information. There's always life and death on the battle field, but displays of courage can be found in anything. When weaknesses are revealed, bridges will be burned, and alliances will break apart, putting all at risk
1. Chapter 1

Bombs hit the earth with a tremendous roar, debris being spit up into the air with brilliant waves of heat and flame. Shrapnel covered the ground, while the thunder of boots and gunfire provided the percussion to the symphony of war. The sky was filled with thick, grey smoke, no blue sky to be seen. Hell would have been more pleasant company on this morning, and death would have been just as close, but still men fought, just as dogged as ever.

Between bursts of return fire, a heavily armored man swung his arm forward, a clear motion to proceed. He tried to yell something to the group of three that followed close behind, but it was lost to the clamor and chaos of combat. The physical gestures had been well enough understood, and three men sprinted forward, guns firing bullets from their hips, before they ducked behind a nearby vehicle. They hardly seemed to care that it was alight with fire, just turned to one another, the point man surveying the true value of this temporary cover.

The point man growled beneath his breath, but once more, the sound was lost in the heat of battle. A sound so inaudible would never have been noticed, even on a calm day, as it would have never made it past the cotton barrier that covered his mouth. A balaclava illustrated with a ghastly, grinning skull covered the lower portion of the man's face, and it was already coated with a thick layer of gunpowder and dust. His eyes, hidden by a pair of tinted sunglasses, stared intently over the car, hunting for potential targets down the street. He was suddenly distracted, however, by the voice of the man crouching to his right.

"Ghost, how many more tangos you spot down there?" Despite the sound of explosions, Ghost was still able to hear that shrill, terror tainted voice he had come to know so well. Crouching back down beside his comrades as bullets flew over their heads, lodging in the metal of the car, Ghost shouted his reply with an angry hiss attached.

"How the bloody hell would I know that, Roach? Now just fuckin' reload, this car isn't going to hold much longer." As he spoke, he stood up, firing his fully automatic weapon with as much accuracy as he could manage. He saw one man in the distance go down in a spray of red mist, and as the familiar hammering of the weapon back into his shoulder faltered, he dropped back to a knee. Smoothly ejecting the magazine and shoving it back into his belt, Ghost turned to look at the other man, who was surveying the streets around them.

"Which building is it, Meat?" Ghost asked, to which Meat only shook his head, turning his eyes back down to reference the digital map he possessed. As Ghost surveyed the tall buildings around him, he mourned the loss of such a wonderful place. A lonely street now, nearly abandoned, rubble making up the landscape after a recent series of bombings. Window panes were shattered, and glass littered the streets, just as plentiful as rubble. All of the people were gone now- having abandoned their homes and shops upon the intrusion of Makarov's men, or killed by the recent bombings. Civilian corpses were lying exposed in the street, but the trio had done their best to ignore that most unfavorable carnage.

"It's that one!" Meat suddenly exclaimed, just as Ghost was preparing to bring his weapon up to bear once more. His eyes followed Meat's finger, which now pointed to a decrepit building nearly adjacent to their location. It was in such close proximity that Ghost was tempted to let out a sigh of relief, such an unbelievable stroke of luck nothing less than a blessing in the battlefield. Once more, Ghost shifted his weight upwards to survey the men that were shooting at them. They had taken most of their enemies down in the last few rounds of fire, but there were still a few shadows ducking behind piles of broken stone, the clicking of automatic weapons being shuffled.

"Alright men, follow me" Ghost muttered in the absence of bullets showering the thin metal shield of the car, shifting to the balls of his feet in preparation to move. "We're going to go quickly. I'll lead the way in, Roach, you cover me. Meat, draw their fire until we're inside, then watch the door. Take the rest of them out, if you can" he instructed sharply, and gave no chance for his men to confirm his orders. Like a bullet from the barrel of a gun he burst from behind the vehicle, swinging his rifle to the side to deter the enemy from firing with a few friendly shots of his own.

The building was near now, the crumbling walls showing where an entranceway had used to be, and the only target that Ghost had to strive for now. Just a few more paces, with Roach right on his heels, and they would be inside what was left of this shop. As he neared, a man burst from the shadows of the building. Ghost didn't hesitate to pump the body full of lead and watch it drop to the floor like a discarded toy. Leaping over the body, Ghost and Roach were successfully inside, and Meat followed within three seconds.

"Four more Tangos down, Ghost, that should be the last of them" Meat confirmed with a curt tone, his front still facing where they had just entered, weapon ready to fire at the slightest sign of a threat. Pleased with the fluid motions of the operations thus far, Ghost took a deep breath, surveying the inside of the shop.

Sunlight streamed in through the holes blown in the ceiling, and various items were strewn across the floor. What had once been blue paint was now stained with dirt and blood, as though warfare had tried to make its own homely masterpiece, but had instead torn everything apart. Ghost could only grimace at the carnage, noting the set of shoes that still remained somewhat untouched beside the pile of broken stone to his right. Had his thick black gloves not been covering his hands, it would be obvious to see the white knuckles with which he was gripping his weapon. His whole body was on high alert, the knowledge that more enemies could be lurking around any corner setting his blood on fire.

However, the objective of the mission snapped him back into focus. The intel they had was shady at best, and if it were up to him to voice his opinion, he would have called this mission nothing more than a shot in the dark. They knew that Makarov had been in this location days ago, but had already left. All that remained were some of his men to pick over the ruins, and let some intelligence filter through. The fact that the higher-ups thought that some holy grail of knowledge would be contained in this small town blown to smithereens was beyond his comprehension. With a slight growl in the back of his throat, Ghost nodded to the room to the left.

"Come on Roach, hurry up. Exfil will be here within two minutes of our call. Meat, you keep watch at the front, radio at any signs of trouble. We're looking for a laptop, or a cell phone, whatever the hell looks valuable through all this mess" he barked, and Roach didn't hesitate to bound into the room that Ghost had motioned to. Upon seeing that the man had done as ordered, he too moved forward, scouting the room to the right. His movements were silent, although true stealth had been compromised by their explosive entrance. Thankfully, no more enemies were to be found in the next two rooms, while unfortunately, no obvious intel was either.

Just as he was about to enter the back room, he heard a rustling, and instantly brought the sights of his rifle up over a body that had just moved in front of him. There was a soft yip of surprise, and Ghost dropped his rifle with an annoyed huff. The body that had been in his sights was a familiar one, and although there was a rifle pointed right back at him, Ghost realized there was no immediate cause for concern. It appeared that Roach had cleared his rooms as well, and happened to make it to the backmost room at the same time as he.

"Bloody hell, kid, watch where you point that thing" Ghost grunted, looking at the room with a wary eye as Roach lowered his weapon, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. There were two folding tables set up in front of a tattered couch, and a closed laptop sat in the center, nearly begging to be taken. Ghost smirked, glad that his mask could hide his silent expression of relief, and he moved towards it, letting his rifle down to his side.

Roach walked over with him, staring intently down at the laptop as Ghost took it in his hands. With a quick inspection, Ghost deemed that it hadn't suffered any damage, and was definitely a product of the ultranationalists. He stuffed it quickly into the bag on his back, glad that there was room amongst the other supplies, and turned to Roach, who was smiling openly.

"Makarov, fuck 'em, right? Maybe this'll give us the upper hand" he commented, to which Ghost only shook his hand. The kid had passion, he had to give him that. Of course, they knew their job wasn't done. There was always the chance that intelligence was more well-hidden than just a laptop sitting exposed on a tabletop. Ghost figured it would be worth the investment to sort through the pile of wreckage that lie beside the table.

It appeared as though the men that had taken up this place as their base of operation, no matter how temporarily, had moved most of the rubble to a center pile, which was as tall as Ghost. It was in the corner of the room, and seemed to contain mostly bits and pieces of furniture, as well as some chunks of stone. Roach sniffed, and Ghost looked at him. The younger soldier was toeing a piece of stone with his boot, shaking his head.

"It's a shame what they've done to a place like this. Someone lived here, dammit. It's just not right."

"We all know that, Roach" Ghost muttered, watching as his subordinate elbowed a plastic chair that was perched precariously on the top of the pile. It teetered for a moment, then toppled over the edge, making a clattering sound as it descended over other pieces of rubble. The surprise came when a soft cry coupled the crashing sound of the plastic chair.

Instantly, Ghost and Roach brought their weapons up to bear, hunting for a target that had made the sound. After less time than it took to draw a breath, Ghost had circled the pile with Roach, and pointed his weapon at the closest moving body. Once more, Ghost couldn't believe what he saw through the sights of his rifle.

It wasn't a weathered soldier with angry eyes and a weapon, and it wasn't a fellow soldier. Instead, it was a blood streaked face, coated in sweat and grime. Large green eyes stared at him, pools of liquid fear as they stared at the rifle, and another whimper came from a small mouth.

Beside him, Roach balked. This wasn't one of Makarov's men, or an enemy of any sorts. Trying to pull themselves to their feet, staring with obvious terror at the weapons in front of them, was a young girl, probably in junior high or high school. She was shaking, but she was on her feet, dried blood smeared across her face and torso. And by the look in her eyes, Ghost knew that she was ready to run.

 **Thank you very much for reading! Feel free to drop a review or PM telling me what you think. This story will not be updated regularly. Thanks again!**


	2. Chapter 2

Roach froze at the same time that Ghost did, trying to process the sight in front of him. He was a soldier, special forces, no less. He had been trained for many things, to be prepared for any situation in the world, but still, every time he came across a child in a warzone, he froze.

However, freezing may not have been the best option. There was a wild look in her eyes, as though she were a cornered animal, and her rasping breaths showed clear signs of distress. Before Roach could even lower his weapon, she lunged forward, a seemingly desperate attempt to flee through the two heavily armed men. As slow as she may have been, it seemed to take Ghost off guard, but Roach knew that he wasn't going to let this girl get away, enemy or not.

Dropping his rifle to his side, Roach pivoted and grabbed the girl as she pushed past them, wrapping his muscular arms around her thin frame. She let out a shrill cry, loud enough to painfully pierce Roach's ears, but he was unrelenting in his grip. Already she was lashing backwards with her legs, arms straining against the iron arms that now surrounded her.

"NO!" She screeched, continuing to struggle. "I won't let you take me!" she cried, and although it wasn't straining him too terribly to keep his hold on her, Roach sent Ghost a pleading look, desperate for instructions on how to handle the growing problem that he held in his arms. Behind the mask and glasses, he couldn't see any clue to the emotions that his superior was experiencing. However, there was no hesitation in the orders that he gave.

"Ease up, Roach, but don't let her get away" Ghost said firmly, the grip on his rifle obviously relaxing as he tried to process the scene. Roach nodded his compliance, and gently moved so that the girl's feet were setting on the ground, and his arms were as loose as they could be while ensuring that she was unable to break free.

The most distressing aspect of this newfound difficulty was the way her crying sent shivers up Roach's spine. They were so desperate, depraved of hope, and filled with fear. Roach hadn't heard a sound like this in so long, or ever, if his memory served him right. But he hadn't the time for sympathy- they were still in the middle of a valuable mission, and this girl had suddenly complicated things infinitely. Roach knew that they couldn't, in good conscience, leave her here in this condition. That also didn't take away the fact that she was still struggling, her blows surprisingly strong against his armored body. After a moment, Roach looked to Ghost once more, surprised to see that his superior had knelt down beside the girl, trying to catch her attention.

"Hey, look at me. It's going to be alright, we're not here to hurt you" Ghost spoke softly, obviously trying to soothe the girl. "We just want to talk, alright? Maybe get you some help" he continued, holding out his empty hand as a gesture of peace. Roach nearly had to bite his lip to contain his shock that Ghost was acting so gently, his words so soft. He had never known his boss to have a way with people, especially children. So to see him acting like this, now, after intense combat, was shocking. Fortunately, those words had an effect, and the girl's struggles ceased, her tear filled eyes looking directly at Ghost.

No longer was she kicking and straining against his arms, but instead standing weakly, her whole frame shaking. Even through his body armor and uniform, Roach could feel it, a steady vibration as she trembled. It was terrifying, the fact that someone who was struggling so strongly just moments ago now seemed to have a difficult time standing.

"Alright, it seems like you're in a bit of a tough spot" Ghost continued, keeping his voice low and smooth. "It looks like you're hurt, right? Why don't we go sit down, and then we'll work on getting you out of here, how about that?"

"We're the good guys, I promise" Roach added, attempting to add in his own soothing words, anything that could possibly make a bad situation any better. There was a slight hesitation, and then the girl nodded, her tattered hair shifting to cover her face. Ghost stood, looking at Roach, and gesturing for him to release her. Roach complied, gently releasing his hold on her, allowing her to stand on her own.

For the first time, Roach got a good look at her. She appeared to be just over five feet tall, with a thin frame and gaunt face. Her hair could have been any color, for it was covered in dirt and singed, but it fell to just below her shoulders as it was. Brilliant green eyes stared around in fear, and although they were bloodshot and terror ridden, they were beautiful. Wavering for a moment, she went to take a step forward, but let out a soft whimper.

"Is something wrong?" Ghost asked, and seemed to survey the young woman again. She nodded, eyes cast to the ground in an expression of shame. Roach did the same as Ghost had, and quickly identified what had to be the source of her problems. Most of her weight was leaned heavily onto her left side, her right leg barely touching the ground. Blood was smeared across the leg, and what had once been jeans were torn to tatters, barely covering her flesh. Discomfort from a serious injury was obviously affecting her ability to move.

"Alright, I'll help you" Roach offered, shifting himself to the girl's right, offering out his arm. There was only a moment of hesitation before she reached out her own arm and took it, her weight suddenly back again, relying on his arm to carry her. They hobbled the few steps to the couch, where she sat down with another groan of pain. Sitting next to her, Roach stared up at Ghost, who was standing with tense shoulders, his rifle still gripped in his hand.

"Roach, listen up. I'm calling for the chopper now, which means you have about a minute to let this girl know what we're going to do for her, and make sure she's ready for the road ahead" he grunted, then turned away, grabbing for the radio at his shoulder. Tension filled Roach's stomach as he stared at the girl, unsure of what he could possibly say to ease her terror or her pain. She was still shaking like a leaf, her eyes looking at the ground, arms crossed across her body. Tears were fresh on her cheeks now, cutting lines through the dirt and blood that had already been smeared there.

"Can you tell me your name?" Roach offered, trying to smile, although she still refused to look at him. "My name is Roach, and that over there is Ghost. We're soldiers with a special forces division, American and English soldiers, so you don't have to worry about us. I promise we're the good guys here. We really want to help you out, and I'd like to know your name." After a moment's pause, she spoke faintly, her voice weak.

"My name is Alison." The words themselves were weak, but her voice wavered as she spoke, as though she were at the risk of fainting nearly any second. Roach smiled, and moved to put an arm around her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. But she flinched back violently, and Roach withdrew, as it was plain to see she didn't desire any more human contact than required. Instead he offered the best smile he could manage, and tried to keep his voice light.

"Hi Alison, it's nice to meet you. Like you heard Ghost say, we have to leave very soon. If we could, we'd let you go with other troops in the area, and get you to a safe place. But we're the only ones here right now, so you're going to have to come with us. Do you think you'd be okay with that?" he asked, although he made sure that the words were firm enough that she understood that she didn't exactly have a choice. She nodded, wiping at her face with the back of her wrist in a pathetic attempt to clear away some tears. After a weak cough, she looked at him for the first time.

"I don't think I can walk very far" she offered, then looked back down at the ground, as though she were embarrassed. Grimacing, Roach looked at her leg again. It did appear that it had been mangled very seriously from some sort of injury, and the rest of her body didn't look as though it were preserved either. Before Roach had the chance to inquire just what was wrong, Ghost walked back over, standing a pace in front of him.

"Alright Roach, it's go time. We have about a minute before the chopper is touching down, just down the street. Let's go." His commanding officer was firm in his words, and Roach knew that his options were growing more slim by the second. He looked at Alison, knowing that what he was about to offer was desperate at best, but it would be the best option that this little girl was going to have.

"Listen, Alison, we need to get going now. I'm going to have to carry you, alright? I'll be gentle, I promise. If we do this, you'll be out of harm's way very, very soon. Just trust me" he pleaded, to which she seemed to sigh, and nod her head.

Slinging his rifle across his body, Roach stood, awkwardly beside Alison. He reached his arms down, and slid his left arm beneath her knees. She whimpered at this, but Roach knew that he couldn't dawdle for the sake of her comfort. With his other arm behind her back, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her body against him. Lighter than he had imagined, Roach shifted her weight slightly before turning to Ghost with a curt nod. Without hesitation they started to move forward, Roach following in Ghost's footsteps, carefully clearing piles of rubble.

When they arrived at the front of the house, Meat was still standing watch, his rifle up at the ready. As Ghost arrived, he turned, and Roach saw the surprise clear in his eyes. But as any obedient soldier would, he didn't question the new arrival, but followed Ghost out the door.

Roach could hear his precious cargo choking back tears, and her shallow breaths as she pressed close to him. It wasn't as though he couldn't carry a load this heavy (for he normally carried much more in gear), but it was the nature of just what he was holding that made him uneasy. Still he put one foot in front of the other, following his teammates as they went out into the ruined street and the light of day once more. On full alert, he held Alison close to his chest as he could, and listened keenly for the sound of a helicopter in the air. He could do nothing now except pity this poor girl, and hope that they could get her the help that the so desperately needed.

 **Thank you very much for reading. If you have anything to say, feel free to drop a review or leave me a PM. Thank you to all who have followed and favorited this story already. Thank you to JustABunchOfNonsense for the review- I hope that my writing will continue to stay up to par with your expectations. Thanks again for reading. Once again; this story will not be updated regularly.**


	3. Chapter 3

Ghost led the group forward, as he always did, his footsteps sure. It didn't matter to him that their cargo numbered more than one soul, for the helicopter that they were to be riding in could hold at least five more bodies. The sound of a helicopter's blades cut through the air, which was now silent, except for their footsteps against the dusty ground. He sure heartedly assumed that Meat had taken care of the rest of their problems with precision, and driven the rest away. The occasional bomb had stopped falling as well, which turned this street into a ghost town, instead of a war zone.

That didn't mean that his attention was any less focused, however. Ghost never let his guard down, and now was no exception. They had the intel, and they had a girl that they needed to get to safety. It was only morally right to do so, and it wasn't as though there were any other forces in the immediate area that could assist. Gritting his teeth, Ghost looked ahead to the clear space that the chipper seemed to be settling on. With a quick turn over his shoulder, he shouted words of encouragement to Roach and Meat.

"Come on you guys, move it! Chopper's about to land" he shouted, his voice suddenly overpowered by the sound of the helicopter. To provide the example he always strived to set, he pushed himself a bit harder, his strides covering a bit more ground as the unmarked black helicopter moved to touch down momentarily on a circle of fire scorched earth.

Seconds later he was hauling himself inside the metal frame, quickly followed by Meat. Both of them turned around to Roach, who was standing at the gaping entrance, Alison still clutched in his arms. Meat and Ghost moved fluidly to pull her inside the helicopter, for they had drilled on how to handle a wounded partner before. Although her stiffness and obvious discomfort made the process more difficult, she was light, and that made her easy to handle. Roach was in soon after, and he was the one to turn and slide the door shut.

Ghost reached forward, signaling to the pilot that they were good to go. And just like that, they were rocking into the air, the thunder of flight filling Ghost's ears with a wonderful melody. Although he normally would have savored this post-mission flight back to base, embracing silence and victory, that was not the case today. Alison was sitting in the middle of the limited empty space, propped up on an elbow, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. Her hair was covering part of her face, so Ghost couldn't see where she was looking. However, he could clearly see Roach's face, and it was laced with obvious concern, borderline distress.

"Roach, grab the med kid" Ghost yelled over the dull roar that surrounded them, and Roach nodded, seemingly hesitant to take his eyes off of their latest rescue. But he complied, of course, he always did. The smaller soldier turned to the back of the chopper to hunt for the large med kit that had been stowed back there the past week. In the meantime, Ghost lowered his weapons, taking off some of his kit as he went. During that process, he surveyed Alison with a sharp eye.

There were few things that he noticed that he hadn't observed before. It appeared that large gashes on her right leg and forearms were the bulk of her injuries, although lacerations covered all of her visible skin. She may have had burns, but due to all of the blood on her body and clothes, Ghost couldn't quite tell. Being trained in combat medicine, and a few other basic procedures, let him know that she wasn't doing well. So as Roach turned back with the med kit, Ghost settled himself beside Alison, taking off his gloves.

"Tell me, how're you feeling?" he asked as gently as he could over the sounds that came with being in a helicopter. Despite the fact that nurturing and kindness were far from being in his nature, Ghost could sympathize with a wounded child, and knew how to act. He tried to keep his motions minimal and smooth, and his words simple and kind. The girl, nearly a young woman, he guessed, simply grimaced, staring down at the floor.

"My leg is injured" she muttered, her voice stronger now, but still wavering as she trembled. "I think I'm going to pass out though" she finished, shifting so she was lying down completely, moving an arm up to her head, lying it across her forehead. Before he asked any other questions, Ghost opened the kit, and surveyed the materials. He didn't hesitate to grab the saline bag and needle, sliding on the medical gloves that were included. If she had been trapped in that building, without resources, since the beginning of the assault on the town, she had gone nearly two days without food or water. Although there was always the odd chance that she had found something in that time period, by the shape she was in now, Ghost figured that that had been minimal.

"Listen, I'm going to get you set up with an IV for right now, okay? It looks like you're dehydrated, and we have at least two hours before you'll be getting any other medical care. I'm trained in combat medicine, so I know what I'm doing, but I won't do anything that I don't absolutely have to" he assured her, prepping the bag, and grabbing alcohol pads and medical tape as he looked at her.

Those green eyes had grown wide with fear at the sight of the needle, and Ghost resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Despite the fact that she had escaped being blown apart, dying from dehydration, or dying from blood loss, this girl still balked at the sight of a needle. Yet Ghost refrained from mentioning it, for he had seen full grown soldiers act the same way when it came time for their usual vaccinations. To ease her worries, he decided he would try to keep speaking to take her mind off of what he was going to do.

"Like you heard earlier, my name is Ghost, and the guy that carried you here was Roach" he started, using the alcohol wipes to sterilize a portion of her inner arm. Her fists tensed, and Ghost reached for another wipe, realizing it would take more than one to cut through the grime. "Don't worry about that, alright? Tell us a bit more about yourself, Alison. How old are you?" he inquired, finally satisfied with the cleanliness of the site. The needle was in his hand now, and it was clear to see her muscles were stiff at the sight.

Her throat had visible movement as she swallowed, and her left hand seemed as though it was trying to bury itself in the metal flooring. Although Ghost knew that tense muscles would make his job a lot harder, and the process a bit more painful for the girl, it didn't seem as though he could change the situation with words. Just as he was about to proceed, Roach, who had been hovering on Alison's other side, moved. He took a hand and gently slid it to Alison's, taking hers gently in his own, and giving her a gentle smile. Ghost saw her squeeze it weakly, then shut her eyes, and he took this as his cue to move.

The needle slid into a large vein in her inner arm without any trouble, and the saline from the bag seemed to flow with ease. Satisfied with his handiwork, Ghost passed the bag back to Meat, who held it high in his hand. He knew the drill just as well as Ghost did, and would serve as Ghost's assistant for the rest of the flight. Thankfully, it seemed as though Alison was breathing a bit more easily now that the IV was in, and the fluids were transferring. In fact, she spoke, catching Ghost off guard.

"I'm fifteen" she responded weakly to the question that Ghost had posed a minute before. "Fifteen years old, but sixteen in another few weeks" she added, a wry smile showing on her pale lips. Ghost grimaced, glad that the balaclava hid some of his more potent expressions. This girl had lost everything, most likely; her home, her family, and any possessions that she might have had. Birthdays, celebrated happily, would be a thing of the past. There was nothing in the world that Ghost could say to her now; she would have to suffer the throes of loss and mourning just like all victims of war would, and that was a journey that one had to make on their own. She would do that all on her own time, and Ghost wasn't one to interfere with personal matters, so he set back to work on what he could do for her health in the time being.

Even though her wounds seemed days old at this point, from the severity of the gash that Ghost noted on her leg, he was surprised she was faring as well as she was for the amount of blood she must have lost. With deft motions, Ghost pulled out one of his combat knives, judging where he was going to start cutting the last tatters of pants away from her leg. While her clothes were mostly intact, they were torn, shredded, and even burnt, and there was no way he could work on her injuries with the cloth in the way. The first wound he figured he would set about cleaning and dressing was the large gash on her right thigh, where it seemed most of the blood had come from. He held the knife up where she could see it, explaining to her so she wouldn't be more frightened than she already was.

"I'm going to start cleaning and patching up some of your injuries, okay Alison? To get to some of the cuts on your leg, I'm going to cut away some of your pants so I can have better access to the wound. Once I have that done, I'll bandage it, then start on another one" he explained, and Alison bit down on her lip as he explained this. Although Ghost wouldn't admit it, he was slightly uncomfortable with the task at hand. Whenever he had done tasks such as this, it was on a soldier who could bear the pain without a sound, and knew better than to complain. That wasn't the case today, for she was already shying away from his hand as he sat.

Starting by steadying her leg with his left hand, Ghost started to cut away the denim that lay outside of the gash carefully, keeping the blade well away from her skin. A soft whimper came from her mouth, and Ghost saw her grip on Roach's hand tighten, her knuckles white from the strength. All Ghost could do now was ignore the sounds and expressions of pain she was displaying, and continue on. It would be foolish to spare her health for her comfort, and the latter was not his priority. At the same time, he knew it was going to be quite the long trip back to base at this rate.

 **A sincere thanks to all who are reading. I appreciate the follows, favorites, and reviews I have received on this story. To my reviewers, thank you for the kind words- they really brightened my day. If you have any comments on this story, feel free to drop a review or a PM; any feedback is much appreciated.**

 **A brief note I will include in following chapters: I understand that many of the events occuring in this work of fiction are a poor representation of actual military standards, and the events that transpire in this story would be considered inexcusible in an actual military setting, by any branch or service, regardless of nationality. However, this is a work of fiction, and I have taken liberties and included inaccuracies for the sake of keeping things somewhat different and interesting.**


	4. Chapter 4

Roach sat beside Alison, her hand still in his. It had surprised him at first, how gentle and smooth her hand had been in his. It was small, and lacked the callouses his did. So much time had passed since the last time he had contacted someone in such a gentle manner, that he was surprised. Something inside of his heart was moved for this poor girl, injured so severely by a war that was tearing countries apart. He knew well enough that she wasn't the only one, but she was the first that he had been so close to, and the first person that had given him such trust and a gentle touch in quite a long time.

He had wanted to support her through the pain, but it seemed that he was so far away. Without the knowledge of any more than her name, he was unable to bridge some of the gaps between them that he would have liked to, anything to ensure that she was as comfortable as possible. Instead he had been forced to silence, watching her suffer immense pain as Ghost worked over her wounds as best he could. While at first she had been gripping his hand with incredible strength, as Ghost went on, her crying faded, and her grip relaxed. The bag of saline had run empty, and the med kit was almost bare.

But Ghost's handiwork was something to be considered. The largest of the gashes and cuts had been dressed neatly, and her breathing had steadied. Her eyes had closed about halfway into the procedures, and her cries had been minimal for the last half hour. Once Ghost had concluded his work, however, the older soldier draped his jacket over her body, instructing her to rest until they landed. It seemed that she had no trouble following those instructions, and had closed her eyes without a word of complaint, hand relaxing in his.

Now Roach just watched Ghost from across the cramped space, his friend and superior sitting silently, without motion. While Roach couldn't tell whether or not Ghost was sleeping, with his eyes hidden by red tinted sunglasses, he liked to think that Ghost was staring intently off into space, thinking of strategies in combat, or other aspects of war. Perhaps their fearless point man was thinking of the fine arts, of stories. These thoughts occupied and entertained Roach for the rest of the ride to base, as they normally did, intertwined with thoughts of what the hell they were going to do with the girl they'd dragged along with them.

"Two minutes to touchdown" Ghost inputted out of the blue, moving from his gargoyle-like stillness, beginning to sling his rifle across his body, and gather the few items he had laid down. Meat followed suit, bringing his rifle up and across his body. Following close behind, Roach looked down at Alison, who still didn't stir, even as they began to move. Before he could mention her, Ghost had knelt beside her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes opened, blinking slowly, taking in the sights around her as though she were seeing them for the first time. The only sound that came from her mouth was a pitiful whimper, like a wounded dog, perhaps at the realization of the pain she was in. Ghost's voice returned to that gentle pitch that Roach was so unaccustomed to as he spoke to her again.

"We're almost at our base, where you'll be able to get some proper medical care. Once we touch down, Roach is going to carry you to the infirmary, where our doctor will work on you. After that, we'll figure out what we're going to do with you. Don't worry, we'll take care of everything" he finished, extending a hand to her.

Roach watched as she took it, and Ghost helped her sit up slowly, moving his jacket so it was around her shoulders. She winced, and shot Roach a desperate look, as though she wanted him to do something, anything, to ease the pain that she was in. It pained him to know that there was nothing he could do but get her to the infirmary as quickly as possible as soon as the helicopter touched down.

There was a gentle bumping as the helicopter touched down, and the whirring of the blades slowly came to a halt. Meat heaved the door open, and bright sunlight streamed in through the opening. Hesitantly, Roach knelt beside Alison, and awkwardly gathered her into his arms once again. This time, there was less crying, and she resisted much less. It might have made the physical task much simpler, but in Roach's mind, it had no effect on the emotional burden associated.

The infirmary was relatively close to the helo landing pad, no more than a thirty second jog away from where they stood now. Knowing that his task was of the utmost importance, Roach shimmied out of the chopper, keeping her as steady in his arms as he could manage. She was silent again, so much more so than before, and Roach didn't quite know what to make of that. Her green eyes were open, watering, fearful, but no words came forth to describe those emotions. Roach set his lips in a thin line, knowing that it wasn't his job to know, it wasn't his job to get attached. His job right now was to get her to the infirmary, and quickly.

He set off at a jog, his boots hitting the packed dirt of their base of operations with gentle thuds. Doing his best to keep Alison steady in his arms was difficult, but no task that he couldn't accomplish without a bit of effort. True to his estimate, about thirty seconds later, he trotted in through the doors of the infirmary. Doc was sitting at the plain wood desk near the entrance, and he raised his head as Roach entered.

"Good God, what're you doing, Roach?" Doc exclaimed as he rose to his feet, moving quickly over towards where Roach stood with Alison. Only now did Roach feel Alison as tense as she was before, her arms taut around his neck, her head pressing into his chest. Before Roach could explain, Doc was looking the girl over intently, his duties as a doctor coming first and foremost. After just a moment of shock, Roach spit out the best explanation he could manage.

"We found her in the rubble of the town we were just in, and she was too injured to move. No other forces were in the area, so Ghost made the call to bring her back here. He did his best to dress her wounds in the chopper, and gave her a standard bag of saline, but nothing more" he offered up, to which Doc shook his head, marching away and yelling to Roach over his shoulder.

"Come into this room, and set her down on the bed. I appreciate that Ghost did his best, but from what I can see, she needed help a lot sooner than she got it" the doctor muttered, and Roach, of course, complied. When it came to medicine, the doctor on base would be the one to know best. He walked down the length of the infirmary, and into the room at the back. It was walled on three sides, while the fourth was merely separated by a curtain. Walking in, he was greeted by the usual military hospital bed setup, with carts of instruments pushed against the back wall. Doc was pulling gloves onto his hands, and nodded towards the bed as Roach entered.

Even though Alison's grip increased in pressure by tenfold around his neck, Roach could only give her a sympathetic look, trying to make her understand that it was going to be alright. So as he set her down, he did so gently, regret coming over him as he felt the reluctance for her to let go. Hours ago she wouldn't let him touch her, and now, in this new place, she was afraid to let go. If he hadn't been so good at swallowing his emotions, Roach knew he would have been much more visibly perturbed by the ongoing events. Within a few seconds, however, she was lying flat on the bed, looking at Doc with wide eyes. For a moment, Roach was worried that Doc would once more live up to his infamy on poor bedside manner, and he feared that he would have to intervene for Alison's sake. However, the doctor lent a kind smile, pausing in his hurried movements so he could look at her directly.

"Hello there, what's your name?" he asked, and although his tone remained serious, it seemed that Alison was able to discern that he did in fact have good intentions. She gave a weak smile back, nodding her head in greeting.

"I'm Alison" she spoke gently, and Doc held the smile on his face before he continued speaking.

"Well hello there, Alison, I'm the doctor here on base. You can call me Doc, that's what they all call me around here. I'm sure that you've had a tough few days, and you're not feeling to great right now. But I promise you that I am a doctor, a fine one at that, and I can have you patched up in no time. Now, I can't promise that it isn't going to hurt, but I promise I'm going to do my very best to make sure this all goes as pleasant as possible for you. I'll let you know exactly what I'm going to do before I do it, so no surprises, alright? And before I start, I'm going to have to get some personal information from you, so I can make sure I'm treating everything as I should. How does that sound, Alison?" he finished with a smile, his voice warmer now, as a family doctor would be.

Roach felt as though he were physically straining to keep his jaw from dropping. Doc, the man best known for holding his patients down and telling them to shut up, was now comforting a young girl in quite a deal of pain without the slightest strain. His visits to Doc had never been pleasant themselves, for even the doctor for a special forces group had to be a bit of a hard-ass. However, he was grateful enough that this sudden streak of kindness had appeared, for Alison was most obviously put at ease by his words. She nodded to his question, a small smile coming over her face, as though she suddenly realized that was being left in good hands.

"Alright then, I'd like to get started as soon as possible, so Roach, you'll have to go now. If you so desire, you can come back later, when I'm done here" Doc added, staring at Roach with a fire in his eyes. Roach swallowed hard, knowing the meaning of the look in Doc's eyes; Roach was not to discuss this softer side of their friendly doctor, not if he valued his life. Giving a subtle nod, Roach looked down at Alison one last time, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'll be back to check on you later, I promise" he said, trying to force a final, genuine smile. "I know that I'm leaving you to the best there is. I promise he'll have you feeling better soon"

"Thank you" Alison managed to say after a moments pause, and Roach let her hand go, turning to exit the small room. He was reluctant to leave her behind, for the sake of how vulnerable she seemed, but he did have complete faith in Doc to set things straight. Besides, he could see her again today, when she was feeling better, and he had other things to do in the meantime.

 **Note: I understand that many of the events occuring in this work are a poor representation of military standards, and the events that occur in this story would be considered inexusable in an actual military setting, by any branch of service, regardless of nationality. However, this is a work of fiction, and I have taken liberties and included inaccuracies for the sake of keeping things somewhat different and interesting.**

 **Thank you very much for reading. I greatly appreciate every follow, favorite, and review I have received on this story. As for the reviews, thank you for the kind and encouraging words, as well as the constructive feedback I have been receiving. These are some of the best reviews I have ever received, for I have been told not only praise, but observations of my work and possible improvements. For this, I thank all of you, the support I've already been shown is tremendous. Thank you again for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

Ghost was tempted to follow Roach's steps to the infirmary, but he knew that the younger soldier could handle his own with this issue. It wasn't too much trouble to carry an injured soul to the on-base doctor and get the situation explained in brief. Of course, the whole task force would know within hours. Word spread between these brothers like wildfire, and with the mention of a civilian child on base, it would be no time at all before everyone was chattering about it. Once he was sure that Roach had made it without incident, he turned and walked towards the admin building, where MacTavish would be, waiting for his report, and any intel successfully recovered from the mission.

Although he had hoped that he could make it to the administration building without any distractions, Ghost should have known that he would never be so lucky. Just emerging from the barracks was Archer, the best sniper on the task force, and he had a face that displayed his hunger for information. Even as Ghost pointedly looked away, Archer walked nearer, a direct path towards him. Ghost grumbled internally, but gave in, knowing that he would have no escape from the questions for quite a while.

"Hey, Ghost" Archer greeted, the sniper giving him a polite nod in greeting. "Is everything alright? I saw Roach head over to the infirmary, looked like he was holding something. Is the little guy alright?" Archer inquired, walking beside Ghost as he continued to move.

"No, he's alright. We brought back a little more than intel on this last mission, however" he admitted begrudgingly. Although MacTavish was the first person that he should have told about their little situation, it wasn't as though it would be a secret by the time evening meal came around. Archer's eyes widened, and he suddenly jumped in front of Ghost, causing the already angered soldier to halt in his path.

"You brought someone back? Are they a prisoner?" Archer asked, noticeably excited by the prospect of a new arrival on base. The sniper was usually quite stoic, so this breach of character confirmed Ghost's worst fears, the fears that he had been brewing over on the flight back to base; while they were elite soldiers, the slightest opportunity for excitement caused them to rage out of control. Ghost just shook his head, his voice dropping to an annoyed tone with his next words.

"It's just a girl. A civilian girl" he hissed, to which Archer had an even more adverse reaction. His friend's eyes nearly bugged from his head, and a smile came over his face, one that spoke of a desperate man.

"A girl, you say? Oh come on now, is she a babe or-"

"She's fifteen, Archer. Fifteen years old" Ghost cut in angrily, shouldering past the brown-eyed sniper without a glance back. The rest of his steps to the admin building were filled with a sense of determination and purpose. He wasn't going to get stopped again, and he was sure as hell going to let MacTavish know before word spread too far. Archer, of course, would be one of the last to be a gossipmonger, but it was better to be cautious and alert, especially as a superior to most of these men.

He came to the door of MacTavish's office, and gave a few sharp knocks on the door. The familiar, harsh voice called for him to enter, and slid in without a word. MacTavish sat at his desk, staring at him with a welcoming smile. The man looked a bit more tired than usual, but it didn't seem to hinder his respect to old friends.

"So, tell me, how'd it go?" the scarred soldier asked, and Ghost suddenly found himself short for words. The usual mission briefing was nearly script, and how it usually went afterwards was a cigar or small drink between the two friends. But today, Ghost faltered. He couldn't find the words he so normally used to inform his superior of a mission and its success, so instead he just reached into the bag slung over his shoulder, and slid the laptop across the desk to MacTavish. After looking it over intently, seeming content with the findings, and then turned back to Ghost with a sterner eye than usual.

"I know you're not exactly talkative, but I know when something's wrong. All three of you came back, didn't you? You got the intel. From what I can tell, this mission was a success. What's buggin' ya?" MacTavish grunted, obviously trying to repress his usual gruff manner for the sake that he believed Ghost deserved a bit more respect.

But now, under the gaze of both his commander and his friend, Ghost started to burn with the intense fire of failure. His mind became a storm, more so than when it had been numb on the flight back. He was under the threat of immobilization at the realization of his own stupidity. Such a breach of protocol could only happen if the man in charge had turned to ashes, and yet here he was, perfectly intact! Cursing himself, Ghost knew that he had to have at least the courage to own up to his own mistakes, however grievous. So he looked at MacTavish, dead in the eye, and confessed to his sins in a solemn and serious tone.

"We brought more back with us than intel, sir. A civilian girl was left wounded in the building that we discovered this laptop in. There were no other forces available for immediate extraction in the area, sir, so I made the call and took her with us. She's in the infirmary with Doc right now." As he spoke, he could see the fire shifting in his old friend's eyes, and it was obvious that MacTavish was furious. His direct superior stood, his eyebrows furrowed, plainly filled with uncontrollable anger.

"You brought a civilian back on base? Do you know what a serious breach of protocol that is?" he yelled, his voice bellowing with rage. "I don't even know what you were thinking. What are we supposed to do with a bloody civilian here, and a wounded one, at that?" and suddenly, MacTavish stopped there, took a deep breath, and sat back down. The fire was still there, but it seemed that composure had returned.

"You said she was injured, yes? I can't say I would have done any differently, Ghost. In fact, I know I would have done just the same thing. But this time, it wasn't me who did it. You've left us with quite a mess, it seems. I'm not going to be angry at you for having your head far enough out of your ass to help someone in serious trouble. That doesn't mean it's going to be any easier for us. Tell me, do you know anything about this civilian you've dragged back here with us?" he asked, his voice level once more, though far from friendly. This change of heart relaxed Ghost enough that he could find his words, comforted by the fact that although he made a mistake, it was one that his superior agreed with.

"Her name is Alison, although I don't have a last name. She's fifteen years old, and has suffered a few severe injuries, most notably her leg. She was also suffering from extreme dehydration, and possibly shock." And as expected, as he mentioned her age, MacTavish's eyes grew wide once more, brewing with anger and shock.

"Bloody hell, Ghost, you didn't just drag a civilian into this mess. It's a bloody kid. Dammit" he growled, slamming a fist down on his desk. "I can't morally argue with what you did, but god dammit Ghost, you've made a big mess. I'll head down and talk to her later, I assume Doc has got his hands full patching her up right now, and you can come with me then. In the meantime, fill out a report on just what happened, so maybe, just maybe, I can explain to the higher-ups that you weren't out of your mind. You're free to go" MacTavish finished, waving a hand at the door. Ghost nodded, and without speaking another word, turned and left the office. He still stung from the harsh words of someone he considered a close friend, a brother, even, but it wasn't as though the words were unjustified. Everything that MacTavish had said was true, and Ghost didn't feel the need to deny one bit of it. The comfort came in the fact that despite the mess that it had made, MacTavish did truly believe that Ghost had done the right thing, no matter how dangerously stupid it was. And even as he considered the consequences, Ghost just couldn't bring himself to feel ill about saving the life of a young girl.

Begrudgingly, he went to the back of the admin building, and fetched some of the incident report papers that he was all too accustomed to filling out. If anyone on the team messed up, even in the slightest, it was up to him to take responsibility. Such was the curse of having authority over others; the faults of your subordinates were your own faults, and your responsibility. And now, Ghost was feeling that burden, knowing that the weight of the whole incident was to fall on him. He only hoped that someone sitting at some desk in a suit would understand the pressure of combat, the fact that you could only look at a crying child for so long before folding. Everything in his heart had told him that he had made the correct decision, and despite the mess he was in now, he swore that he would do all he could not to regret his decision.

 **Note: I understand that many of the events occuring in this work are a poor representation of military standards, and the events that occur in this story would be considered inexusable in an actual military setting, by any branch of service, regardless of nationality. However, this is a work of fiction, and I have taken liberties and included inaccuracies for the sake of keeping things somewhat different and interesting.**

 **Thank you very much for reading. I greatly appreciate every follow, favorite, and review I have received on this story. If you have any comments or questions, feel free to drop a review or shoot me a PM- my inbox is always open.**


End file.
